


yellow flicker beat

by LadyMerlin



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF James T. Kirk, BAMF Spock (Star Trek), Epic Friendship, M/M, Post-Canon, Trust, Vulcan Mind Melds, antagonists to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-19 07:09:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22473820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyMerlin/pseuds/LadyMerlin
Summary: No one has seen this in him save for his mother, and now, Jim.Jim, who knows better than most people about being greater than the sum of his parts.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock
Comments: 42
Kudos: 368





	yellow flicker beat

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place after the events of ST:XI but before Spock accepts the post aboard the USS Enterprise. I often wonder if Spock wasn’t just as starved for friendship/companionship as Jim was, until they met each other. 
> 
> Title and inspiration come from “Yellow Flicker Beat” by Lorde, a song which reminds me of all the times in ST:XI when Jim and Spock were in perfect sync. I admit, this is super self-indulgent, but that's par for the course for me, when it comes to K/S fic.

Spock arranges a meeting with Jim before he accepts the position of first officer.

Jim is good at expecting the unexpected, but even he doesn’t know what’s going to happen when Spock requests entry to his room. The animal part of his brain, the one that sharpened its teeth on bones and grief, looks for anything it can keep between Spock and himself, if the man tries to kill him (again). Though it’s not likely. Though Jim probably deserves no less. 

But when Jim opens the door, Spock walks in like a man on a mission. His dress is regulation standard, but the cleanly pressed lines of his uniform and the subservient tuck of his hands behind his back don’t match the steel in his eyes. He looks like a jaguar playing at being a housecat. 

“You have requested me as your first officer,” Spock starts, and then stops. Jim nods but doesn’t interrupt. There’s a voice in the back of his head that’s screaming at him; this is important. This is _important_. “The Fleet wishes me to accept your request. They believe I can temper your more… impulsive tendencies.” 

Jim shrugs and then nods. He’d suspected as much, but he thinks he knows Spock a little better than that. There’s a certain bond that comes into existence when they’ve been through… well. What they’ve been through. When closing his eyes sends him straight back to that heated moment, pinned against a console on the bridge, Spock’s slender fingers wrapped around his throat in a vice grip, a wordless promise. 

There’s another pause before Spock continues. “I find myself supremely uninterested in taking the role of a child-minder.” There’s a steely glint in Spock’s eyes that makes Jim think he’s thinking of the exact same thing he is. He grins. 

“You can say that again, Spock. I haven’t been a child in a very long time.” He’s never been a child, he doesn’t say. 

“Indeed,” Spock says, like he really does understand. “If I am to accept this position, I will not be...” he trails off, like there’s a word he wants to use but isn’t sure how Jim will take it. 

Jim knows what he’s trying to say. It’s a good thing Jim doesn’t have an inflated ego. “If you accept this position, you will be my equal.” Positives are easier than negatives. There are lots of things Spock isn’t ( _vulcanvulcanvulcan_ ), but only a few specific things Spock wants to be. 

Spock’s shoulders slump so slightly that Jim wouldn't have noticed if he hadn’t been watching for it. “I’ve got four hundred and thirty-seven subordinates on this ship, Spock. I don’t need another one.” He tries to imagine what his dad would have thought if he’d been around to hear Jim saying this; what Pike might still say, if he ever found out. 

Their hypothetical disapproval hardly matters. He’d still rather have a partner than another warm body on the ship. Someone he could rely on without exception, someone whom he could trust to have his back, who won’t, who wouldn’t flinch when Jim is himself; is the best or worst of himself. 

Spock inclines his head slightly, and Jim’s eyes are drawn to the pointed tip of his ear, a perfect blend of Vulcan and Human and all the more elegant for it. “Starfleet expects that my Vulcan temperament will be most suitable as a foil for someone of your… nature. I have been informed that the committee did not even consider me for another position.” 

There are a thousand words that could have filled in the slight pause Spock leaves, but the point is that none of them would have been enough to describe Jim, not on their own. Jim hasn’t survived this long without being able to read between the lines. The brass is putting so much pressure on him that if Spock does eventually turn down the Enterprise, he’ll be forced to quit the Fleet entirely. “They’ve forgotten that you’re not Vulcan, not entirely.” 

From any other person in any other circumstances, the words would have been nothing less than a grave insult. But from Jim, they’re a compliment, like it’s the most flattering thing about Spock; the fact that he’s _not_ entirely Vulcan. After years of having it held against him, despite the destruction of his entire planet and the fact that Vulcans are now an endangered species, the words would have been a balm against his bruised soul, if Spock was prone to such flowery metaphors. 

Still, the deepest truth has always been that he didn’t _want_ to be entirely Vulcan, not if it meant giving up his link to his mother. He’s always been proud to be a little different, proud to be like her, even if it was deemed a disadvantage. No one has seen this in him save for his mother, and now, Jim. 

Jim, who knows better than most people about being greater than the sum of his parts. 

“I find myself - I wish - I will not be alone.” Indecision is uncharacteristic in Spock, but Jim gets it. He gets the hesitation, the reluctance to speak aloud words which have so far only been thought. Sharing thoughts makes them real. Jim shakes his head. 

“Space is a dark and lonely place, Spock, and at the end of everything we are all alone, each of us.” This is a fundamental truth that Jim has learned. “But while we’re still here, we don’t have to be. If you’re willing to reciprocate.” 

Spock Prime says they will share a friendship the likes of which may never be seen again, but for now they are still strangers who have been through too much together, but mostly alone. For now, this is still a negotiation, because Jim has learned it’s best to start with a clear understanding of terms, to avoid confusion later on. There aren’t many people who can live up to, or even surpass what Jim expects from then, but he suspects Spock might be one of them. 

Spock nods again, easily, like there’s nothing terrifying about what Jim has just proposed. Jim likes that in a man. “You are aware that Vulcans are touch-telepaths?” he asks, but like he already knows the answer. Jim nods. “And you are aware of the Vulcan ability to enter each other’s minds?” 

“A mind-meld,” Jim answers, like he hasn’t just used a word that is traditionally Vulcan, which they rarely - if ever - share with outsiders. “Yes.” 

“You have experienced one in the past?” Spock asks, which is the only logical explanation for his familiarity. 

Jim’s answering smile is a little wry, more-than-a-little amused. “You’ll see when we do this. What are the words, again? My mind to your mind?” 

Spock shivers at the thought that Jim has already been through a meld - he doesn’t know what Jim’s mind will feel like, but he finds that he wants to know; the curiosity feels like hunger. He reaches out and places his fingers against the psi-points on the right side of Jim’s face. He does _not_ startle when Jim returns the gesture, his fingers pressed gently against Spock’s forehead, his cheek and his jaw. Traditionally the recipient of the meld does not touch, especially if they’re psi-null, but it is almost tradition that Jim Kirk should defy tradition in any way he can. His skin is rough and warm.

“My mind to your mind, my thoughts to your thoughts,” Spock says lowly, and the connection is immediate, electric, _overwhelming_.

Jim’s mind is luminous, filled with flashes of neon light and sound in all directions, dizzying in its intensity, but all the more beautiful for it. Spock knows his own mind is intense in a different way, a blue so dark it is nearly black, lit only by a scattering of stars above, reflected in cool ankle-deep liquid below. 

Jim wades into his mind quietly, and luminescence flares where he makes contact with Spock’s Id. 

Jim exhales and Spock can feel it, both against his face and in his mind. Like this, it is easy to forget that they are two separate entities, connected only by a light touch. 

“Can you hear me?” Jim thinks the question, directing it towards Spock. 

Spock sends back a wordless affirmative; he understands the instinct, but speech is not necessary. In a meld, thinking is enough, which is why so many people - Vulcans included - fear this. There is no filter, no way a thought can be softened, or misunderstood. 

Spock has always appreciated the clarity. 

_Do you understand now?_ Spock thinks, standing hip-deep in the image of green grass that Jim’s mind eventually settles on. The flashes of colour and thought have lessened in intensity, but from the corners of his eyes he can still see birds as brightly coloured as jewels, flitting between lush trees. 

Jim has intuited that a mindscape is a chosen expression, but since he is relatively unskilled, Spock can still feel sands shifting under his feet, where there ought to be solid ground. Or perhaps this is what Jim has chosen; because nothing is ever what it seems. _I do,_ Jim replies, a little over-loud as he tries to project the thought. _I do,_ he repeats when he realises that projection is not necessary. Spock knows what he’s thinking, even when he’s not trying to share. 

_We will never be apart again,_ Spock says, even though the thought is redundant, and understanding is already flowing between them. 

_I quite like the sound of that,_ Jim answers, as though Spock had asked a question. Spock knows it’s true, because Jim’s pleasure is like a tidal wave crashing around his shoulders, and it should be suffocating, but instead he just breathes it in. He can’t see Jim’s body, but he can taste him, like this. It’s - this is possibly the most enticing thing Spock has ever experienced in his entire life, to be so deeply melded with a compatible mind. It’s euphoric. 

_Are you willing to take me as I am?_ Spock inquires, plucking thoughts like stars from the sky and tossing them at Jim; showing him wordlessly that imagining physical actions makes it easier to control his communication; a trick he learned as a child. 

Golden affirmation rushes back at him, and for a split second the grass around his body feels like waves, and then like sand, and then it’s back to grass again. Each time it happens, Spock becomes more sure that this is not a symptom of inexperience, but rather a characteristic of Jim’s mind-scape. After all, his Captain is nothing if not mercurial. Ephemeral. 

Amusement laps at his fingertips, along with a good dose of ‘you too’, which is true, not that anyone has noticed it about Spock, yet. 

Do you want to see everything else? Jim asks, open but nervous. 

Spock sends back a negative. Time passes in melds at the same rate as it does for their bodies. To experience a lifetime in mere minutes would be nothing less than disrespectful. The link is firm, roots buried deep in fertile ground. They have time to explore each other at leisure. 

He disconnects the link, deliberately visualising unhooking a cable from an anchor in Jim’s mind. He does this because it is one thing for their minds to be linked when the Captain does not know how to disconnect, and it’s entirely another for Jim to chose to stay connected, every day. He senses Jim watching, and understanding, both his actions and his intent. 

They blink back into reality as easily as stepping through the door, as smooth a disconnect as Spock has ever experienced. Even with T’Pring, who was judged to be most compatible with his hybrid mind, their parting had always been... tumultuous. 

His fingers are still pressed against Jim’s face, and awareness flares in his mind’s eye, like a glow where they’re touching. Jim’s fingers against Spock’s own skin feel like burning embers, searing through his shields. 

Jim’s lips are parted and his eyes are still shut, like he’s lingering in the aftereffects of a good meld, or perhaps basking in the warmth of Spock’s body. Spock finds he has no objections either way. 

“Parted from me and never parted,” he whispers, so softly that Jim might ignore him if he chooses. Spock knows the meaning of these words, and through him, so does Jim. 

Jim does not hesitate to reply. “Never and always touching and touched, Spock. I want them to give us this ship, and make it so that they can’t ever take it away from us, even if they want to.” 

Spock nods and moves his hand away from Jim’s face, but not before brushing his fingertips against Jim’s hair. Jim leans into the touch ever so slightly, but they don’t follow through on the obvious; Spock doesn’t cup his cheek, Jim doesn’t kiss him. This is not the time. 

Jim’s own hand drops away from Spock’s face, but it brushes against Spock’s palm just before they step backwards and apart. The mental connection between them stretches, but withstands, easily. Something within him sparks and catches, deep inside his chest. 

He waits for Jim, and Jim steps forward, leading the way out of their room. Spock follows, enjoying the way they fall into step. Once, Spock might have claimed that pleasure is an emotion and therefore anathema. But lying to one’s self is a foolish pursuit and he is not a fool. There is no shame in admiring the perfection of poetry in motion. The flames spread further, deeper, hotter. 

“There are many who will regret placing us together. No doubt they will try to undo their mistake as soon as they realise it.” He keeps his voice low, but he knows Jim can hear him, even though their pace does not falter. Their hearts beat in time.

“We’ll make them regret even trying to separate us.” 

Spock inclines his head in agreement. “That is logical, Captain.” 

“I’ve got your back, _t’hy’la_.” 

It begins. 

**Author's Note:**

> *jazz hands* bet this fandom thought it had seen the last of me! Well I’m currently on self-quarantine, so I guess there’s time yet... (too soon?)
> 
> Caveat: this was written entirely on my phone, so I apologise for any inadvertent errors. Also, yes, the POV switch after the meld was entirely on purpose.


End file.
